I DO not love thee!--no! I do not love thee! 
And yet when thou art absent I am sad; 
   And envy even the bright blue sky above thee, 
Whose quiet stars may see thee and be glad. 

   I do not love thee!--yet, I know not why, 
Whate'er thou dost seems still well done, to me: 
   And often in my solitude I sigh 
That those I do love are not more like thee! 

   I do not love thee!--yet, when thou art gone, 
I hate the sound (though those who speak be dear) 
   Which breaks the lingering echo of the tone 
Thy voice of music leaves upon my ear. 

   I do not love thee!--yet thy speaking eyes, 
With their deep, bright, and most expressive blue, 
   Between me and the midnight heaven arise, 
Oftener than any eyes I ever knew. 

   I know I do not love thee! yet, alas! 
Others will scarcely trust my candid heart; 
   And oft I catch them smiling as they pass, 
Because they see me gazing where thou art.